


As Bad As Any Elf

by TourmalineQueen



Series: Rozenn the Breton [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Galmar warming up to the Breton, Gen, Rozenn the Breton, Skyrim Kinkmeme, Stormcloak babies getting lessons, Stormcloak faction quest, The fic that started the series, Written in 2013, and also warming up the Breton, hypothermia in fanfic, might get around to finishing it off, oh no what do, still unfinished, wow a long long time ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 18:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Written (in 2013) for the Skyrim Kinkmeme (Currently unfinished).Original Prompt: So Galmar likes the Dragonborn a lot, even though there's a bit of an age difference he is pretty sure he loves her.However, despite Galmar being all nord, blunt and badass he's had a fair few rejections and would rather it be her who makes the first move.Yet he does try to impress her. Often coming to her rescue in battle, paying attention to the things she is interested in, buying her gifts she can't afford stuff like that. Stuff that pals do for each other.However, one night she runs into Rolff Stone-Fist. The one person Galmar never wanted the DB to meet.Whatever happens from then on is up to A!A.Bonus points if-DB is a Breton-DB gets into a brawl with Rolff only to be broken up by an ashamed and embarrassed Galmar-Galmar avoids the DB after her run in with Rolff-Sexy times eventually (duh)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unfinished as of 24/08/2019.

Rozenn stood in the presence of greatness, and it made her nervous. The first time she had met Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had been inauspicious at best, and his Housecarl was glaring at her like she had personally offended him.

"Why's a Breton want to fight for Skyrim, anyway?" Galmar Stone-Fist asked suspiciously.

Rozenn blinked. That was not a question she had expected; from what she had heard the Stromcloaks needed every able body they could get their hands on.

"Well?" Galmar added impatiently. Ulfric looked at her with raised brows - they both wanted to know. It had to be a test.

"I have no love for the Empire - especially after Helgen," Rozenn said, truthfully. 

Galmar looked to his Jarl; Ulfric nodded and smiled grimly. Galmar rolled his eyes and shook his head. Rozenn saw, and glared fiercely at the Nord, letting Sparks flicker in her palms. Galmar snorted. 

"Bretons," she heard him mutter, "as bad as the elves, in their way."

Galmar sent her to dispatch the Ice-Wraith, a task she accepted without question or complaint; Galmar was happy enough to see that: she would make a good soldier if she continued to take her orders so well.

He watched as she turned to leave the War Room, her race were of such small stature that he wondered how she would be able to fight the creature alone.

"Wait, Breton," he ordered.

The raven-haired Breton stopped and turned back to him, brows raised in enquiry.

"Take these," he instructed, thrusting three bottles of Ice-Wraith's Bane at her. "It's the only help you'll get, mind."

Rozenn nodded, her hazel eyes bright against her olive war-paint.

Rozenn left the Palace of the Kings feeling confused. She headed for Candlehearth Hall, and the bed that was hers for another four hours to try to understand what had just happened.

_I'm now a Stormcloak, but not really, not until Galmar Stone-Fist is satisfied that I can fight by killing the Ice Wraith, and yet, after giving me this test, he also gives me a means to make the test easier to pass? Perhaps he is simply making it fairer. On me, anyway_. Rozenn shook her head. It didn't make sense to her. _Is it because I'm a Breton, and therefore too small to be a warrior like him? Arrogant Nord!_

She tossed and turned on the comfortable bed for an hour, wrestling with her conflicting opinions of her direct commanding officer, before finally giving up and sleeping. She awoke feeling rested (but sadly not well-rested, as she had hoped) and made her way out to the Blacksmith's Quarter. Oengul War-Anvil smiled at her approach, and recommended a new mace for her to try.

"I've never seen such iridescence in weaponry before," she said, swinging the Glass weapon a few times.

"I bet Eorlund Grey-Mane has nothing like that," was Oengul's response.

Rozenn smiled at the smith, and asked the price. Very quickly she handed it back - she couldn't afford a horse, and the man wanted 575 septims for a weapon? She settled for a Steel sword and sharpened it herself at the grindstone. She cheerfully took her leave of Oengul, and headed back to the Stone Quarter and the exit to Skyrim proper, tossing a septim to Silda the Unseen as she went. Galmar turned from where he had stood, unseen by the little Breton, at Hillevi Cruel-Sea's stall. He strolled purposefully over to the smith, and bought a Glass mace. 

"I thought you preferred good Nord Steel, Galmar?" Oengul asked curiously.

"'s a gift," Galmar grunted.


	2. Chapter 2

Galmar Stone-Fist sighed, rolled his eyes and wished -not for the first time- that someone else had been made Ulfric's Housecarl. Someone else would then have the pleasure of training up some incompetent Stormcloaks. Jorlief had suggested a small coven of Pyromancers that had made a home in a cave off the North Road would be an appropriate test. Galmar had taken five with him.

One of the survivors of Helgen was in the group, and a young lass who knew enough about Restoration to be a trainee Shield-Maiden, as well as a couple of hard-headed idiots that had tried and failed to join the Companions. _Talos, give me patience_, Galmar silently begged. They had gone into the wilderness outside Windhelm's walls to train in guerilla combat. And then a dragon had flown overhead.

Ralof had frozen to the spot, hidden from above by a massive pine; the girl had looked to Galmar, and followed his lead by dropping to her hunkers and Sneaking into the shade of the treeline. Galmar wanted to observe the beast, try to discern any weaknesses it might have, before taking the fight to it. The other three were less astute.

Two of the three drew their bows and charged off into a clearing after the beast, yelling at the top of their lungs, while the third drew the greatsword the was too heavy for his arms. What happened next was a blur of shrieking dragon, burning men, and useless running. Galmar had ordered Ralof and the Shield-Maiden to stay back, guard their rear, and had followed the sound of the melée, drawing his own weapon when he got near enough to the hovering beast.

He wasn't quite sure what happened next, except that the voice of a second dragon had joined in the din, but there was no shadow on the ground. All of a sudden the dragon's attention had turned from the young idiots and it was attacking something on the other side of the clearing. Galmar barked at the one still on his feet to return to the others, then he checked the two trainees lying still on the ground. One, dead. One, living, but badly burned. Again, looking to the dragon, which was waddling on the ground snapping and shrieking at something he couldn't see. Good. He could move the injured boy.

"Young idiot," Galmar muttered, gently lifting the sorry burden, "always wait for orders, don't go chasing down dragons unless you are told it is safe to do so."

"And it's never safe to do so," came a stern voice behind him.

"Breton! Don't sneak up on a man like that!" Galmar snapped.

"Sorry," she said, sounding unrepentant. "He needs Healing. Is there somewhere safe nearby? I learned some good spells to help--"

"We _have_ a Shield-Maiden, Breton," Galmar growled. "Just keep watch, make sure the beast doesn't sneak up behind us."

"It won't," said the little Breton.

"Make sure," Galmar ordered, striding back to the others.

"I _am_ sure," she said, irritated.

Ignoring the trainee Breton, Galmar placed his unconscious trainee beside the young Shield-Maiden, gruffly asking, "Can you help?"

Greta nodded, eyes wide and uncertain. Ralof and the other lad who had charged off with the patient were making the beginnings of a camp. Ralof unrolled a soft, fleece-lined bedroll and helped Greta lift the unfortunate boy onto it. The other young fool jumped to attention when Galmar cleared his throat. 

"Name, boy?"

"Andris, sir. I - did Oskar - is he -"

"Was Oskar the one with the greatsword?"

Andris nodded miserably.

"I'm sorry, son. Was he kin to you?"

Andris nodded again, staring at the ground. Galmar noticed (but pretended not to) that tears were dripping down the boy's face. 

"You three took off without orders."

Andris nodded again.

"You put yourselves in danger. And one of you paid the ultimate price. Your other friend-"

"Altan, sir"

"Your other friend Altan is seriously wounded. I only hope Greta there can heal him enough to allow us to travel back to the city with him. Did the Companions not tell you that you need to be less headstrong? Did they not instruct you about your impetuousness?"

"Yessir," the boy whispered.

"Then, please, for Talos' sake, remember this. I won't drum you out of the Stormcloak army just yet, boy. But I think six months cleaning the latrines in the Palace of the Kings might be a worthwhile way to pass the time for you. I am very disappointed with all three of you," Galmar said sternly.

He turned from the weeping lad only to frown in consternation at the sight of the little Breton girl and the Shield-Maiden working together.

"I gave you an order, Breton," Galmar said, roughly, coming up behind the pair of mages. Greta squeaked and lost concentration on the spell she was casting, but Rozenn barely glanced at the General.

"Dragon's dead, it won't be sneaking up on us. Its' bones are in my pack, if you need proof."

"Hmph. Insolent witch," Galmar muttered. "Will the boy live, do you think?"

"If my Magicka reserves hold out, we will have Altan on his feet in a handful of hours," Rozenn replied absently, adding, "I'll be needing some potions to Fortify my Magicka soon. If there's anywhere we might get some Abecean longfins, they would be incredibly useful right about now. I have one or two in my pack."

"Who exactly put you in command, Breton?" Galmar asked irritably.

Ralof cleared his throat quietly behind Galmar.

"Yes, lad?"

"The mages' den we were originally going to clear out, sir. They might have an alchemy table, and ingredients that Rozenn might find useful."

Galmar looked assessingly at the young soldier from Riverwood. He had a good head on his shoulders. 

"Breton, can you be spared from healing the boy?"

Rozenn looked at Greta, who nodded. "I can. I gave Greta the spellbook she needs. If she learns the spell I'll be free to go with you."

"Give me ten minutes, please, General?" Greta asked softly.

Galmar nodded. "Right. You, me, and the Breton will clear out that filthy den of mages. Andris and Greta stay here with Altan."

"Yes sir," chorused the trainees.

The fight to clear out the mages' den was short and brutal, and would have gone perfectly if the mages had fought honourably as warriors. Galmar hated mages.

"He's got a limitless supply of Magicka or else some staves, it looks like," Ralof muttered to Galmar as the dodged behind the bole of a large pine to avoid an attack. Galmar grunted in response. 

It was only one mage, but his position was very defensible. Anyone attacking the honourless cur had to charge uphill and in fairly open ground, vulnerable to numerous attacks unless a ranged attack could disarm him. Thus far their ranged attacks had done no worse than inconvenience the enemy mage, if that.

Rozenn was on higher ground than Ralof and Galmar, closer to the mage, on one knee in the shrubbery, aiming her bow carefully, when the one of the icy attacks hit and staggered her, knocking her into plain view. Out of the relative protection of the vegetation, before she could regain her feet, the mage sent hit after hit of ice storms at the Breton, completely fatiguing her. The mage paused his attacks momentarily, and Rozenn staggered to her feet and turned back towards Galmar and Ralof when a shock attack sent her reeling. Galmar saw red.

"Get the Breton to safety!" Galmar ordered Ralof, before charging the mage, his battleaxe readied.

Galmar's battle was short and bloody, once he got close enough to use a devastating attack on the cowardly sorcerer.

"I want to know who let him get by us and into that stand of trees," Galmar said to Ralof as he strode back down to the cave entrance. "Three of us should have dealt with him much more quickly. The Breton?"

"Barely conscious, General," Ralof said, troubled. "She's more vulnerable than we are to frost attacks, and he sent the guts of two fully charged staves into her. And that last shock attack seems to have ravaged her Magicka levels: she can't heal herself properly. If we don't get her warm soon, she could die of hypothermia."

"Hypothermia when it's not even cold out," Galmar muttered. "Mages and their dirty tricks. Let's get her inside the cave. Shelter will help, and maybe those cur mages had some braziers or furs in there."

Rozenn couldn't walk, she was shivering so hard, so Galmar lifted her into his arms.

"Just like carrying an ice sculpture," he told her. "Don't squirm. I'd hate to drop you and have you shatter like ice."

He wasn't sure if she shook her head, or if she was just shaking.

"We'll get you warm again," he said reassuringly.

"N-n-n-nev-v-v Never b-b-b-be w-w-warm ag-g-g-gain," Rozenn said quietly.

"Don't contradict your superiors," he chided.

"N-n-n-not m-m-my-"

"Sssh!"

Inside the cave, Galmar sent Ralof to scout for anything that might be useful to help Greta with Altan and Rozenn's injuries, while he slowly undressed Rozenn beside two large, hot braziers; the ice had coated and stiffened her leather armour and was slowly melting, leaving her wet and feeling even colder.

Her boots came off fairly easily, but her left bracer was almost stuck to her skin. Galmar took up an iron dagger from the floor and cut through sodden leather and stiff buckles. When he glanced up at her he saw that Rozenn was glaring at him. He returned the cross look.

"What? You'll catch your death in wet, icy armour," he snapped defensively.

"M-m-made it m-mys-self. K-k-kill-led b-b-b-bear in Heh-helg-g-gen for l-l-leather," Rozenn stammered, teeth still chattering.

"It can't be helped, Breton. Your life is worth more than your armour," Galmar replied, busying himself with removing her other bracer. It came loose more easily, and he didn't bother cutting it. "'S decent work. You'll make more another time."

"Hmph," she sniffed.

"She sounds just like you," Ralof said, entirely too cheerfully as he came back to the cave entryway.

"Report," Galmar ordered, ignoring the commentary.

"There was one more fire mage inside. I dealt with him. There's a couple of bedrooms that Greta and Altan might use, and some good warm furs for Rozenn - here," Ralof said handing one over to Galmar. "It's a small enough cavern, only this hall and the main chamber, with the two bedrooms off it. It's defensible, although if the enemy comes we could get bottled up inside."

Galmar nodded absently. "We're too close to Windhelm to worry about Imperials attacking us. We'll be safe enough here until Altan and Miss Icicle here are well enough to move under their own power. Go fetch the other three, Ralof."

"Yes, General."

"Wait!" Galmar called.

Ralof halted. "What is it, General?"

"You got a better blade than this? It's so blunt I doubt I could cut butter with it," Galmar said, waving the little Iron dagger in the air.

Ralof winked at Rozenn and tossed Galmar his steel dagger. "I'll want that back, General."

"Impudent pup," Galmar replied.

Ralof left them alone. Galmar set to work loosening all Rozenn's buckles on her armour. He swore when he realised how few were even workable - the magical ice had frozen several of them solid.

"I'll need to cut it off you," Galmar admitted. "I'm sorry. Try not to squirm - I would prefer not to pierce that Dragonskin of yours, Breton."

Rozenn nodded miserably. "D-Do it. T-too c-c-cold t-t-to ar-g-g-gue."

"A good soldier doesn't argue even when they're of a proper temperature," Galmar said, frowning in concentration, as he slid the steel blade under the shoulder of her armour.

They lost track of time while Galmar worked the dagger through the seams and sides of Rozenn's armour; and even with the best of intentions, he occasionally slipped, leaving small gashes on her arms, and a nasty one on her right side when he had had to saw through the stiff, sodden leather.

Rozenn didn't even flinch: she was growing colder and colder, which numbed her to the minor wounds, but also led her closer to hypothermia. Galmar worried at the bluish tint to her lips as he peeled the cold leather from her body, and wrapped her in the fur that Ralof had given them. Rozenn's eyes were half-shut and she was shivering uncontrollably. The heat from the two flaming braziers didn't seem to be penetrating the deep cold she felt.

"Stay there," Galmar ordered, and ran deeper inside to get more fur wraps to cover her.


End file.
